


Unkiss Me

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Just all the Drunk, M/M, Multi, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Five drunk elves.  One burning question.  And answers no one expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someday I shall learn not to post things out of order. Today is not that day. Tomorrow is not looking much better.
> 
> I began writing this at 1 am on January 5, 2015 (working title: five drunk elve -- I may have been drinking myself and forgotten the s on the end, and just never corrected it). Slowly it transformed over two years. I think, like the wine they drink, this one needed a little time to mature. Enjoy, darlings, while I continue to edit and post this chaotic assortment of Private Reserve stories from the Bunniverse.

"Alright. What if you had a free pass to have one night, anyone you want, guilt free." Faelion was on his stomach on half of the window seat, wine glass held loosely in his hand as if it would slip out at any moment, despite the total control he had.

Fingon seemed slightly less alert. “Want for what?”

“What do you think?” Faelion drawled. He waggled his brows and winked at Fingon to try to clear up further confusion.

"Irrelevant. This conversation is self-indulgent for starters, and in conclusion," Fingon slurred slightly, "I have this much interest in intimacy." He shakily held up his hand and curled his fingers. “Furthermore,” he added, but that was it.

"You have a hand's worth?" replied Faelion, slightly confused.

"No... that was a zero." Fingon rolled his eyes. "You are drunk."

"We are all drunk." Beleg stretched his legs out and set his glass down, yet did not abandon it completely. "Is that an open question?"

"Open question? Oh, for anyone. Yeah, sure," replied the sleepy voice from the window seat. "I really want to hear from Fingon, but anyone will do. Answer away, master hunter."

"I have nothing to say to that," said Beleg. "Everyone knows what my answer would be."

"I do not," said Faelion.

"Turin." It was Fingon who answered. "Turin with the other name that sounds like Turn-a-barn, but I never remember.”

“Turambar,” whispered Beleg over Fingon’s monologue.

If Fingon heard, he did not care. “It could be Duran Bar, too, but I know it starts with a T, so that means…” Fingon flipped his hair, sending a cascade of braids to swing around and sway back. “I can hardly fault him, though. I mean, I was dealing with Maedhros for all those years."

Faelion propped himself up a bit. "Neither of you mind talking about it? I mean, hearing about it from the other one?"

"When we get bored with being civilized, we like to have contests on who was in the more abusive relationship," said Fingon, and Faelion could not tell whether or not he was lying. “I used to mind discussing it, but that was back when I felt like… if I had feelings for someone else, I was cheating on him. Long after we broke it off. I needed to confront him in order to give myself permission to move on and keep going and...” He motioned that someone else should take over the conversation.

“I still want to know the answer to your question,” said Faelion. 

“It was your question,” Fingon reminded him, sentence slurred into what sounded like a single word. “And I told you it was irrelevance. If you asked me who I want to snuggle with or kiss, I might have an answer, but once you involve winky things--”

“Winky things?” laughed Faelion.

“Sure. One-eyed winkers. Trouser snakes. Look, I am trying to be a gentleman,” explained Fingon. “You want me to say penis, but I am not going to say penis, and you undoubtfully know what a one-eyed winker is. So. Once you involve those, I have no interest in it.”

“Who do you want to--”

“Glorfindel. For cuddling purposes only.”

Faelion suddenly sobered. “Oh.”

“Not so happy to have pressed the issue now, are you?”

“I was expecting someone else. Or… well…” Faelion sat up and set the glass on the edge of the table. “Did I just make things really awkward?”

“No, we already knew about it.” Glorfindel was quiet as he spoke. “He actually scolded Erestor one night when the three of us were at a party and told Erestor if he kept acting like an ass, he was going to run off with me and treat me as I deserved to be treated.”

“And he was not the first,” spoke Erestor. “I probably deserve to be on the list of abusive relationship… people.”

“You turned out alright in the end.” Glorfindel kissed Erestor’s neck. He was really aiming for his cheek, but everything was a little blurry at the moment.

"I already know Glorfindel's answer," Erestor said. His eyes were closed, and even though he had not partaken in the wine, he looked more tired than the rest.

"You only think you know the answer."

Erestor opened one eye and looked to his right where Glorfindel was seated. "Someone other than Gildor?"

"The question was not 'who did we used to be with', but... you know, I could probably join in on the abusive relationship discussion, recalling what Gildor did to me," he realized. “Sure, you needed some work,” said to Erestor, but he tenderly reached up and rubbed the back of his husband’s neck as he said this. “But with Gildor… you were hurting yourself more than you were hurting me,” tried Glorfindel, his thoughts only halfway coherent. “Gildor was hurting me to hurt you. In a way, he was still abusing you even though you were no longer in a relationship with him.”

“Sorry, excuse me, I know I am drunk,” announced Fingon, “but I think I might have recalled hearing about Gildor and Erestor, and I think you just eluded to them being together in a relationship and that would be really… does anyone know where my wine went?” 

“In your hand, dear,” said Beleg. “Also, doubtful you have only been drinking wine.”

“A-ha!” Fingon downed the glass and hiccuped. “Now… Erestor. Gildor. Yes? No? Go,” he commanded as he extended his leg to point his toes as Erestor.

“Second age. It was really sketchy. It was… it was a lot of drinking and smoking and all sorts of things and that was when we discovered things like the coca plant and multiple party… things.” Erestor sighed. “Maglor and his wife and Celebrimbor at one point and… just a lot of…”

“Annatar,” Glorfindel added sharply.

“Right. That one.” Erestor stretched and glanced about uncomfortably. “I try not to think about the second age. It was like one really long bad dream. The first half of it, at least.”

“Suffice to say, Gildor was no prize then, nor was he in the third age, either,” said Glorfindel.

Fingon motioned with his hand that the debate was open. "I am sure you will not beat Beleg, though."

Beleg nodded. "Kind of hard to be bested by 'and then he killed me with a talking sword'."

“Agreed.” Faelion rolled his shoulders, a yawn attempting to overthrow his lucidity. "So, Glorfindel, love, who would you--"

"Elrond."

Erestor was silent for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"What?"

"Really? Elrond?"

"What is wrong with Elrond?" asked Glorfindel defensively. "Celebrian finds him rather attractive. Why can I not fantasize about--"

"You fantasized about Elrond?" Erestor frowned. "Recently, or in Rivendelly?" Faelion was on the edge of the window seat, watching the exchange with great glee.

"What difference does it make?" Glorfindel asked smugly.

"It makes a lot of difference," declared Erestor. "How many council meetings were you at when you were imagining being with him?"

Fingon leaned closer to Beleg and whispered loudly and with much glee, “He just called it Rivendelly.” Beleg patted Fingon’s knee and smiled.

"I only got so far as to imagining making out with him when I was at council meetings. We never had a really good, long council meeting," Glorfindel admitted. "You always ended them before things in my mind got to the best part. I think I only made it to naked with him under a waterfall by the time you adjourned. Oh, stop looking so appalled, he who cannot keep his pants on. Mister flirts with all the girls when he really just wants me to sneak off with him to the stables for a midday romp."

"In a way, I guess Glorfindel was your answer. Would have been your answer. Back, ago. Before now. You know," Fingon said with a wave of his hand at Erestor. "You know, back in the time before."

"We know what you mean," Beleg assured him.

“For the record,” stuttered Erestor, “I would not have conducted midday romps in a stable.”

“I love how you say that as if that is the worst part of what Glorfindel just suggested,” chuckled Faelion.

“Wait a minute... he cannot use Glorfindel as his, he is right here with him now,” argued Fingon. 

“You used Glorfindel,” countered Erestor.

“I was going to use Glorfindel,” Faelion admitted.

“You do not get to use him, either.” Fingon crossed his arms over his chest. “I said him first, so I get to use him. Also, I have never snuggled or kissed him,” he shot back.

Glorfindel shrugged, sat up, and pointed at Fingon, then crooked a finger. Fingon arched a brow as he turned his head slowly to look at Beleg. The hunter slowly smiled as he placed his hand on Fingon’s back and gave him a gentle push in Glorfindel’s direction.

“This couch is only made for two,” Erestor informed Fingon as he watched the younger fellow sit on Glorfindel’s knee and nuzzle at his neck. 

“Well, then, maybe you should find another seat, because I am not sharing.” Fingon suggested. To emphasize this, he swung his legs around and pressed his feet against Erestor’s leg so that he was being shoved off the sofa.

“I was here first.” Erestor used the arm of the couch to perch upon, and Fingon poked at him with his feet a little more. There was a pillow just to the side, and Erestor picked it up and used it to bat at Fingon’s feet.

“Tell me your answer and you can have him back,” offered Fingon. He snuggled his head under Glorfindel’s chin.

Faelion was grinning madly at the display that Fingon and Glorfindel were putting on. “You two are adorable,” he cooed.

“Oh, please.” Erestor conceded and moved off with a huff. “You better return him undamaged,” he said in a very unconvincing tone.

“I am mostly harmless.” Fingon stretched his legs out now that there was room. “You smell nice,” he commented.

“Does he smell like flowers?” asked Beleg, who was uncorking another bottle of wine. “Because he should smell like flowers.”

“Mmm, no. Like…” Fingon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Like a vanillaish something and sugary, like warm cookies.”

“But does he taste like cookies?” asked Faelion before he chortled at the expense of Erestor, who had one foot on the landing, not quite committed to leaving them and going up the stairs. “You should test that theory for us. For science.”

Erestor shook his head, grunted disgustedly, and stomped up the stairs. 

“Is he coming back?” asked Fingon with an ounce of worry. Glorfindel nodded, and was silently counting down from twenty. At four, a noise was heard at the top of the stairs. Erestor was at the bottom when Glorfindel reached one.

“Just for the record, I hate all of you.” Erestor was pointing at Fingon when he said this, and then narrowed his eyes. “Why are you still sniffing him?”

Fingon snickered against Glorfindel’s chest. “Because you are yelling at me, and I need to know which cookies he is.”

“How much wine did he have?” questioned Erestor.

Beleg stood up, walked over, and held out a full glass. “About half of what you need.”

“If you are jealous, I can come over and sniff you next,” offered Fingon.

Erestor seemed uncertain of his retort, and so he gritted his teeth and returned up the stairs.

Fingon sat up, frowned, and looked at Glorfindel. “Maybe I should shut my mouth.”

“He will be back,” Glorfindel assured him, running his hand over the gold adorned braids in Fingon’s hair.”Did you figure out what kind of cookies I smell like?”

“No. Or maybe I did and I just want future excuses to nuzzle you.”

Beleg joined the group again and took a sip from the glass he had offered Erestor. “Just as long as I get my fair share of nuzzling.”

"There are always nuzzles for you.” Fingon, still on Glorfindel’s lap, leaned to his left to smush his face against Beleg’s hip. A moment later, he sat up again. “Have any of you ever played spin the bottle?" asked Fingon mischievously.

Faelion nodded slowly as he studied Fingon, who was untangling his hair from Glorfindel's. There was a massive amount of hair between the two of them, and it appeared that even their curls had been cuddling. "For someone who claims to have no interest in sex, you sure have a lot of interest in foreplay."

"Foreplay is playful. It even has ‘play’ in it. I like foreplay. Sex is dirty and disgusting. It has the word ‘ex’ in it, which is what everyone I have ever had sex with has become." Fingon was pushing his shoes off and followed that with his stockings. "I guess I just like to engage in activities that have little to no chance of pain involved."

"Has intercourse always been uncomfortable for you?" asked Glorfindel. "Or is it more that you--"

"I had sex twice." Each word sounded like it had its own punctuation. "I did a lot of fun things, and the first time that Maedhros and I were together, we almost had sex, but, yes, what he was doing started to make me uncomfortable, so I stopped him." Fingon squirmed a little and slid off of Glorfindel's lap onto the seat beside him. "There were some... other things he did when we were together that I really did not enjoy. Some of it scared me, in fact. So. I had one time with my wife, which I fucked up mostly and hated immensely and was terrible. Mostly for her. Then we had one night before the Nirnaeth." Fingon stopped making eye contact with anyone. His right leg bounced a little with a nervousness that few ever saw in Fingon. “I told Maedhros if we won we would rule together and he told me it would not matter if we were unbound, so I…” Fingon nodded, shook his head, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Some regrets you can almost take back, and some… well, that time was worse than the first. And then I was dead a few days later, so I never had to tell anyone.” Fingon opened his eyes and looked around. “So, please, do not tell anyone. I try to pretend that never happened.”

"Hmm. Do you ever want to be able to? Well, you are able to - I mean, do you have any desires to eventually..." Glorfindel trailed off as Fingon started to shake his head.

Fingon wound a long strand of Glorfindel's hair around his fingers. "I get aroused just from kissing."

Beleg leaned over the arm of his chair to face them directly. "He climaxed once when all I had done was kiss his ears."

"Whoa. That is talent," declared Faelion. "I want that ability."

“Wait… so if we play spin the bottle with you, there is a chance the game ends with--”

“With a very happy evening for me,” purred Fingon as he ran his foot up and down Glorfindel’s leg.

“I think we have a winner on who is drunkest.” Faelion went to the table and picked up one of the empty bottles from it. He looked across the room and Glorfindel shook his head. 

Erestor wandered back down the stairs as the others silently tried to decide whether or not to engage in the activity. He frowned to see that Fingon had taken up his space on the couch. Glorfindel patted his knee as an offered to Erestor, who walked past to examine the glasses on the table and try to figure out which one was his. Faelion set the empty bottle back down and came to perch upon Glorfindel’s lap instead.

"Go ahead and drink it from the bottle," suggested Fingon. “But, slowly, and turn a little so we can all watch,” he said, which caused the others to glance at each other and raise a brow or two.

"Right, sounds like you might enjoy that too much," Erestor said when he settled on the one that appeared was most likely to be the one he abandoned.

Faelion stretched his arms out and let out a growling noise. "I am going to be so useless in the morning,” he declared before he wound his arms around Glorfindel’s neck and snuggled against his chest.

"We all are," agreed Fingon. "Might as well just go all the way with it."

"Says that one who keeps stating he does not want to 'go all the way'."

Fingon waggled a finger at Faelion. "You are taking my words out of context, sir."

Faelion answered with another yawn. "We would all benefit from further relaxation. Whatever that should mean. Especially Erestor."

"Erestor needs to drink me." Beleg started to pour more wine into his own glass before he realized his slip. "Drink more," he amended, his cheeks turning bright red.

"Perhaps we should swap partners for the evening," suggested Fingon as he ran his foot over Glorfindel's chest.

“And where does that leave me?” asked Faelion.

“You can have the bottle,” offered Erestor.

“Or,” piped up Fingon, “Or… or we just all sway together,” he said as he waved his arm regally at them in random fashion. “Except, for me, no actual sex. Just the good stuffs. Unless the rest of you want the sex part. I will allow that and play referee,” he offered.

There was silence, and then Faelion said to Beleg, “I feel as if I should apologize to you on his behalf.”

Beleg stifled a yawn before he offered, “No need to do so. I already knew. It surprises me that he is being so forward and honest. He told me about this before we moved here - but he told me not to tell any of you.”

“Has he ever been this drunk before?” asked Faelion.

Beleg shook his head. “Not when I have been around.”

“I just want to make sure I am fully understanding this,” said Erestor. “You,” he said as he pointed clearly at Fingon, “have no interest in sex.” He enunciated each word as it was spoken.

Fingon sat up a little and folded his hands in his lap. Even tired and drunk, he could still manage a kingly air at the most unusual times. “I have no interest in having anything stuck up my ass, good sir,” he answered back.

“That still leaves a lot of wiggle room,” interjected Faelion.

“Actually, the rectum, even relaxed, is not that big, and is very tight - so wiggle room is hard to come by,” answered Fingon with an incredibly straight face.

“You just want to be the… giver, not the receiver,” said Glorfindel, but Beleg was already shaking his head.

“No. I have no interest in that, either,” said Fingon.

“Oral sex,” guessed Faelion.

Fingon’s face contorted into a sort of sneer. “Terribly unsanitary, and disgusting.”

“And yet you want to be part of an orgy.” Erestor waited until Fingon nodded before he shook his head. “How?” he demanded, his voice higher than normal.

“I just need to make sure there is an uneven number, so that everyone else can pair off and do what they do. Three is perfect. Five is acceptable. Seven might get a little complicated, but I would be willing to try.”

There were several exchanges around the room, which ended when Beleg spoke up and said, “Before anyone gets any ideas, I am not interested. That is why nothing has been brought up before. And probably should not have been brought up now,” he added. “But since it has been, I did tell him that he was free to approach any of you about it. Obviously, as you have likely all concluded, we do not have a particularly intimate relationship due to Fingon’s preferences.”

Fingon frowned a little at Beleg’s words. “I thought it was intimate,” he said.

“I suppose it is intimate on some levels. We do lack sexual intimacy,” said Beleg.

Fingon’s frown deepened. “Do you want me to come and sit on your lap and sniff you, too?”

Beleg smiled a little and shook his head. “Maybe later,” he said when Fingon continued to pout.

“Erestor, dear, are you alright?” asked Faelion. “You look a little ill.”

Erestor shook his head and sipped from the glass he held. He stood in front of the cabinet that served as a makeshift bar and leaned just slightly against it. He drank once more, and then shook his head again. 

Faelion shrugged and turned his attention back to Fingon. “If you only had sex twice, and both times were before you died, then that makes you a virgin right now.”

Fingon shrugged. “Sure.”

“Maybe this body would feel different than the last one,” said Faelion. “Maybe you should give it a try.”

“I am going to step in and disagree with you on that.” It was Beleg who countered Faelion’s logic. “There are a lot of muscle memories that we keep with us. For example, hunting and marksmanship - I had to relearn some of the basics, but once I got started the rest came easy to me. Some things we recall with vivid accuracy, and if Fingon says he remembers it not being pleasurable, then it was not, and there is no reason to experiment.”

Faelion gave Beleg a doubtful look, but he conceded with a shrug and nuzzled at Glorfindel again. “Just trying to help,” he said. “Seems unnatural not to want to have sex, and unfair to your partner.”

Fingon picked lint off of his trousers and cast Faelion a look that said more than words could. At the same time, Glorfindel leaned down and whispered something to Faelion.

“No, he could not be,” hissed Faelion back to Glorfindel, but he was staring at Erestor. “He had a wife in Gondolin.”

“Right, but you remember the way things were,” Glorfindel said back.

Faelion gave Glorfindel an even more incredulous look than previously given anyone else that evening. “Glorfindel said you were a virgin until almost the end of the third age,” he said, the comment directed to Erestor.

Erestor took a deep breath and set his goblet down on the bar. “Glorfindel needs to learn not to be so god-damned honest about everything.”

Beleg cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should call it a night,” he suggested. “I think there will be several hangovers to sleep off come morning, and there is no time like the present to get started.”

Fingon stood up and took one of the empty bottles from the table. “Good night, everyone,” he declared as he made his way up the stairs first. Beleg soon followed.

Glorfindel waited until he heard the sound of a door closing upstairs before he spoke. “Sorry,” he said quietly. Erestor stared at the floor and made no reply. 

“I am going to go to bed,” said Faelion. He gave Glorfindel a quick kiss on the cheek before he stood up and retreated to the bedroom.

Glorfindel snuffed out most of the remaining candles. He picked up one of the holders that he left lit and took a few steps closer to Erestor. “Are you mad at me?”

“I think I have the right to be.”

“Should we discuss it?” 

“I would prefer not to start a fight right now,” answered Erestor.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor finally looked up. “ ‘Of course’ is not the same as ‘yes’,” he said.

“Do what you want to do,” said Glorfindel with a sigh. “You always do anyway.”

Erestor spent time after Glorfindel left gathering the abandoned glassware and empty bottles, and rising the glasses so that they would be easier to wash in the morning. He made sure no food was left out before he finally followed everyone else up to the second floor. The furniture in the great room was comfortable for conversation, but hardly suitable for napping or sleeping. There was always a chance that Glorfindel and Faelion would already be asleep when he arrived.

At the door to the bedroom, Erestor set his hand on the knob and listened. It was faint, but he could hear them. He released his hold and stood at the door for several minutes. When it was clear that they were just getting started, he turned around to go back down to the great room -- and saw Fingon in his path.

“Beleg fell asleep. I heard someone downstairs and clinking glass and remembered I had this.” He held up the empty bottle he had taken with him earlier. “I thought I would help clean up.”

“Already finished,” said Erestor softly, though he had to speak slightly above a whisper, for the headboard was hitting the other side of the wall they were standing next to at regular intervals. “I can put that down there for you if you like,” he said as he reached out for the bottle.

Fingon extended his hand, but it was his empty one. He took hold of Erestor’s hand, held it gently, and stroked the back of it with his thumb. “You should not be ashamed of what they shared about you,” he said. “Society… it shames those who participate in sexual encounters ‘too early’, and it shames those of us who prefer to wait - or skip it altogether. It barely tolerates the way we want to love others.” He squeezed Erestor’s hand. “There is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“You are a very kind soul,” said Erestor, and he did not pull his hand away. “I apologize if I asked or said anything untoward this evening.”

“I did sit on Glorfindel’s lap, so I think I deserved a bit of it from you,” Fingon replied. “Speaking of questions,” he said, and he had to speak a little louder, for the moans behind the closed door almost echoed in the hallway now, “you never had a chance to answer Faelion’s question this evening.”

“I suppose not.”

“Because, while I did believe Faelion when he said Glorfindel, I actually do not believe that was your answer.”

Erestor shuffled slightly closer so that he did not need to raise his voice again over the sounds of the enthusiastic lovemaking in the bedroom. “I have two confessions to make. No, he would not be my answer - but secondly, I do not believe that was your answer, either.”

“Oh?”

Erestor took the empty bottle from Fingon and set it on the floor, and then walked him back against the wall. Their eyes stayed locked on one another until Erestor brushed aside the long braids that hung down over Fingon’s ear so that he could lean in and whisper, “I think you said Glorfindel and pulled that stunt down there to try to make me jealous.” Erestor’s bottom lip brushed against the sensitive skin of Fingon’s lobe and made him shudder.

“Did it work?” whispered Fingon back.

Erestor blew a stream of air across Fingon’s ear. Fingon’s gasp was unheard amid the cacophony of sounds on the other side of the wall. Again, Erestor took a deeper breath and teased a stream of air across Fingon’s ear, neck, and jaw. Fingon whimpered and squeezed the hand he was holding. His free hand was used to massage the back of Erestor’s neck, while Erestor lowered his hand and caressed Fingon’s hip. He licked and kissed his way up the length of Fingon’s neck, and blew once more across his ear. Fingon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, chest heaving. “Does that answer your question?” whispered Erestor.

The sounds on the other side of the door came to an abrupt halt, and Fingon waited to answer until after it sounded like Glorfindel and Faelion had fallen asleep. “It answers one and poses so many more.”

Erestor lifted Fingon’s hand, for they had yet to let go, and kissed it. “Sweet dreams,” he said. He loosened his grip and reached for the bedroom door with his other hand, but Fingon pulled him back.

“Wait.” Fingon relinquished his hold and retrieved the bottle. “We may not have another chance for this,” he said, and he set the bottle on the floor on its side and spun it around. As it started to slow, he stuck out his foot so that it pointed to Erestor.

Erestor nudged the bottle out of the way with his foot. “Guilt free,” he said as a reminder of the discussion earlier in the evening.

Fingon set his hands on Erestor’s shoulders and backed him against the wall. “No shame,” added Fingon. 

Erestor licked his lips and settled his hands to hold Fingon’s waist. “No shame,” he agreed.

There was far more passion and aggressiveness from Fingon than anticipated, and the back of Erestor’s head hit the wall. Fingon adjusted his hands and moved one behind Erestor’s head to protect it and to draw him closer. They were both mindful of where they were, and tried not to make too much noise, but as lips finally parted, Erestor once again sought out Fingon’s ear. He was more insistent this time, and as he nipped and bit and whispered to Fingon how fucking beautiful he was, Fingon began to cry out and sealed his mouth over the skin of Erestor’s neck and shook as he climaxed a second time. 

Erestor held Fingon upright and gently kissed his nose and lips until Fingon could stand steady on his own again. “Remind me to make you jealous more often,” said Fingon.

“If we do this more often, it hardly constitutes a single, guilt-free night.” Erestor offered his arm. “Shall I walk you to your room?”

Fingon smiled. “I think I need a shower first.”

“Then, walk you to the front door so that you can bathe out back?”

Fingon looped his arm through Erestor’s. “How do you plan to spend the rest of the night?”

“Honest answer?”

“No shame,” Fingon reminded him.

Erestor licked his lips again and led the way down the stairs before he answered. “I am going to sit in that chair over there once you go out, and masturbate while thinking about you bathing, and then go to bed. And dream of you if Irmo is kind.”

“That is… oddly romantic, “ said Fingon as they stopped at the door. “Why not follow me out? You can lie in the hammock and watch in person.”

“If I do that… I might cross a line,” said Erestor.

“Guilt free,” said Fingon.

Erestor lifted Fingon’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I still have a husband upstairs,” said Erestor. “And even though I have to share him with his lover, I still have a little hope left.”

Fingon nodded. “If you are set on staying in the house,” he said, “may I at least suggest the library?”

“Why the library?” asked Erestor as he opened the door and held it for Fingon.

“There is a rather nice plush leather chair up there which is easy to clean off, and if you place it at the east window, you can see the waterfall and the stream rather well.”

Erestor narrowed his eyes a little. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Do you think you are the only one who masturbates?” Fingon smirked at Erestor’s expression. “Just because I do not want to physically make love to another person does not mean I cannot experience pleasure from certain sensations.” Fingon opened a little closet near the door and took from it a towel and some soap. He stopped again when he stood before Erestor and kissed the tip of his nose. “You are quite lovely to look at in the morning, when the sunlight glistens on your damp skin.”

Erestor could think of no suitable reply, and watched as Fingon crossed the lawn, looked over his shoulder, and gave him a wink. He shut the door and looked at the chair he had pointed out earlier. There was a fur throw on it, and he snatched this up and took it up the stairs.

He stood a few moments later between two doors - one leading to the bedroom and the other leading to the library. By now, Fingon had likely stripped off his clothing. Perhaps he was already in the water. Erestor shivered as he thought of how close the hammock was to the edge of the water. Almost close enough to reach out and touch someone if they stepped out on that side…

Erestor reached for the knob of the library door. Through a window that was left open in another room, a sliver of moonlight kissed his hand, and he looked down at the worn golden ring he wore. He withdrew his hand and shook his head, and took a step closer to the bedroom.

He touched the knob of this door, but leaned his head in closer when he heard whispered discussion within.

“...probably drank the rest and passed out…”

“...go and get him…”

“...to join us, he would have… everyone heard…”

“...sometimes it is easier to…”

“...admit that I like having you to myself…”

Erestor’s fingers slipped away and he looked at the door to the library again. Fingon was likely almost done bathing, and would be inside again soon. It was cooler at night, and he would have no reason to stay out later than he had to.

The fur from the great room was still held in Erestor’s hand. He walked briskly back down the stairs as the passionate noises came from the bedroom again. As an afterthought, he grabbed another towel from the closet before stepping out onto the lawn.

He found Fingon lounging on the hammock with his towel wrapped around his waist. “I suppose I arrived too late.”

“Actually, I just cleaned up what I had to and I was waiting and watching the curtains in the library.” Fingon sat up, and the hammock swung back and forth. “I was starting to think you found another line you did not want to cross.”

Erestor tossed the throw and the towel across the hammock. He dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt and drew it along to make a tiny little trench, which he then stepped over as Fingon hopped down from the hammock. “I know there will be consequences, but this is going to be more than just one night. I feel something for you, and I want to explore that. I know I am jeopardizing my relationship with Glorfindel and Faelion, but… tonight was not the first night I had thoughts about you.”

“Knowing what you do about me, you still…” Fingon lifted his brows. “I already talked to Beleg. We have always had a strange relationship. We are there for each other, but not exactly with each other. I think that was evident by some of the things said tonight. He just wanted me to tell you that he will throttle you if you hurt me.”

“Good to know,” said Erestor.

Fingon put his arms around Erestor. “I did let him know that he had nothing to worry about, because if you did anything, I would kick your ass myself.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Erestor placed his hands upon Fingon’s cheeks and slid his fingers along the curve of Fingon’s ears. “Tell me something,” he said between sweet, slow kisses. “Are you really as drunk as you have been pretending to be all night?”

“I can see there will be no hiding secrets from you.” Fingon groaned a little and closed his eyes. “Really wish you had not found out about my ears this early. I am at such a disadvantage.”

Erestor rubbed the tips of Fingon’s ears for a moment, and then shuffled slightly back. He tugged the bottom hem of his shirt so that he could pull it off. He tossed it aside and took hold of Fingon’s wrists. “Fair is fair,” he said in his low voice, and settled Fingon’s hands upon his bare chest.

Fingon studied Erestor’s face, and then experimentally ran his fingertips over and around one of Erestor’s nipples. Erestor breathed in deeply through his nose and gritted his teeth. “You like that?” whispered Fingon. Erestor nodded and held onto Fingon’s hips as fingers nimbly danced over his skin. “I think I know what else you like.” Fingon started to remove Erestor’s belt. Erestor caught his breath, looked down for a moment, and then reached out to take hold of Fingon’s wrists again. 

“I am sorry,” he shakily whispered once Fingon’s hands were stilled. “You talked about… regrets you cannot get rid of… and I do not want to hurt you… I do not want to hurt anyone…” He lifted his hand up so that it was eye-level. “I took an oath,” he said as the wedding band glinted. “I do not intend to be the one to break it.”

“Shhhh… I understand all about oaths.” Fingon pressed his lips against Erestor’s as he buckled his belt again. “This is too much too soon, for both of us,” he said understandingly. “Maybe this is a taste of the future. Maybe this is one of those might have beens.” He took hold of Erestor’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “This will never be a regret for me, Erestor. I will cherish everything we had tonight - especially the great respect I have for you right now. I might be a little more intoxicated than usual.” He squeezed Erestor’s hand. “I do not think I would have said no - to anything. Thank you.”

Erestor drew Fingon into an embrace and held him for a while. “Would you mind terribly if I were to go back up to the library and watch?” he said as they parted.

“I would be simply devastated if you chose not to,” answered Fingon. “I prefer to have an audience when I put on a show.”

Erestor blushed slightly and retrieved his shirt. “Thank you. For everything tonight,” he said, and he stepped closer again and kissed Fingon on the cheek. “It has been a while since I felt… like I did tonight.”

Fingon returned the kiss. “Me, too.” 

Erestor returned to the cottage without the things he brought with him. There were some throws in the library if he needed one, and the towel was unnecessary now. He found the chair that Fingon referenced, and moved it to the window before he drew back the curtain. Fingon was in the water now, waist-deep. When the curtain revealed Erestor at the window, Fingon smiled, waved, and blew a kiss up to Erestor.

“Here you are.”

Erestor turned to see Glorfindel in the doorway. He shut the curtain so quickly he nearly yanked it from the rod. “Something wrong?”

Glorfindel crossed the room. “You never came to bed,” he said, and Erestor stayed positioned in front of the window, unsure how thick the curtains were. “I thought perhaps you fell asleep downstairs.”

“Would it have mattered?”

Glorfindel frowned. “I am sorry about tonight. I should have gone after you sooner. I thought we were all just having a little fun.”

“Maybe I do need to loosen up a little,” said Erestor.

“I know how we can do that,” growled Glorfindel. He crooked a finger at Erestor.

“In a moment. Promise,” he said. Glorfindel nodded and returned to the bedroom. Erestor waited until he heard the door close before he peeked behind the curtain again. The fur and the towel were abandoned on the hammock, but Fingon was nowhere to be seen. Erestor shook his head at himself and moved the chair back to where it belonged. As he exited the library, he encountered Fingon in the hallway.

“Sorry,” whispered Erestor, but Fingon shook his head. 

“No guilt. No regrets. No shame.” Fingon leaned close and whispered, “You will be thinking of me tonight.”

“Yes,” answered Erestor in return.

“Good. I will be thinking of you,” he said. He took Erestor’s hand again and gave it a squeeze before he retreated to the room that he shared with Beleg.

“Erestor?” called out Glorfindel. “Are you going to join us?”

“Coming,” he replied as he walked to the bedroom.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is not often that I add a huge chunk like this after a story is done -- but, eh, I did it a few months ago for Unforgettable, so here we go. The epilogue.

At first it sounded like knocking on the door that woke Beleg, but the thumping was too near for the front door and too far for the bedroom door. He sat up and looked about, and saw Fingon in a chair near the door. The knocking was accompanied by other sounds, faint and fleeting, and then muffled words, clear enough for Beleg to scrunch his nose and rub his eyes before he studied Fingon in the dim light from a flickering candle sitting beside an empty bottle on the table. “Are you crying?” he whispered, and when Fingon blinked and nodded, Beleg left the comfort of his bed. He climbed over Fingon’s bed and came to stand before him, and to cup his cheek with obvious concern upon his face. “What is it?” he asked as he gently rubbed his thumb against damp skin.

“Just listen to them,” whispered Fingon back.

“No choice in that matter,” replied Beleg, but he paused his speech and tilted his head up, all the while keeping contact with Fingon and saying nothing of the teardrops that landed on his fingers. After a moment, he gave a somewhat thoughtful look at the door and said, “It sounds… different.”

Fingon clenched his teeth and shook his head, sucked in a breath, and ground out, “It is Erestor. He is not enjoying it. He is just… letting them do what they want. I know. I used to sound like that.”

“Do you want to stop them?” Beleg waited for an answer, though the noise did not stop. “I will go with you,” he offered.

Fingon’s arm shook a little as he took hold of Beleg’s other hand and lifted it to place a kiss upon his palm. “I fear I shall never do that again,” he said as he let go and turned his head so that Beleg’s fingers slipped away.

It was easy enough for Beleg to interpret his words. “You fell in love with him tonight.”

Up Fingon looked, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “I did.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and then he opened them again. “I fell in love with a beautiful, lonely married man, and I have no idea what the fuck to do about it.”

Beleg reached down and gently petted Fingon’s head. “Before you worry about it, this revelation is not going to cause me to leave. Not yet, at least. When you do manage to finally be with him, and I shall say when and not if, then I shall leave, but not because I will no longer love you in what way I could, but because you will appreciate that ability to focus on him.” Beleg took hold of one of Fingon’s hands and returned the kiss to his palm. “Thank you for being honest with me. I have always appreciated what we have shared with one another. We have had this companionship, this gentle love, and even a little romance, but what I have most enjoyed is the respect we have shared with one another.”

Fingon had not looked away, and now as he continued to stare up, he said, “I will always love you, Cúthalion.”

“I know.” Beleg smiled down and stroked Fingon’s hair a few times more. “And once you settle in to married life and get bored, look me up and we can go hunting. I think Erestor used to hunt, you know, so perhaps you will not need me for that -- but, I do know some of the best places for pheasant, so you might want to track me down regardless.”

“I wish I could be as optimistic as you.” Fingon paused and looked to the door, for the sounds ceased. “He will remain devoted to them so long as they remain.”

Beleg moved the other chair so that he could sit nearer to Fingon. “I think we both knew in our hearts that we were never destined to be lovers, but I can still be your friend. As such, I think it is my duty to do everything in my power to find ways for you to spend time with him.”

“The offer is tempting, but if each night spent with him ends like this, I am certain I would break before long.” Fingon wiped away a straying tear. “That is why I have so little hope.”

A comforting hand was placed upon Fingon’s shoulder. “I can tell you from what I have seen that there is a growing divide. Maybe Erestor will not leave them, but that does not mean they will not leave Erestor. Some day that gap is going to be big enough for you to fill the emptiness. I guess it is the difference between bravery and patience.”

“I am a coward,” whispered Fingon.

Beleg leaned over and kissed Fingon’s cheek. “I do not think so. I think you are braver than you think. You risked a lot tonight. I suspect he basically knows?”

“I did not go into great detail.”

“These walls are pretty thin, Fin. From what I heard going on in the hallway--”

“Yes, I think-- he understands. I think I was clear enough about… things,” mumbled Fingon.

“Right. So that,” said Beleg as he waved a hand in the direction of the end of the cottage where a bit of noise was heard, “is like a tree hit by lightning with a giant crack running through it. No one wants to be the one to take it down, but some day that whole thing is going to come crashing down and someone will get hurt and instead of blaming the lightning, someone is going to blame the tree.”

“I like your tree analogies.”

“Thank you.”

“Much better than mine.”

Beleg petted Fingon’s head again. “What was your comparison going to be?”

“Something about horse manure on a hot day.”

“Then I agree. I like mine better, too,” said Beleg. “So. What do you want to do?”

Fingon closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. They began to hear noises coming from down the hall again. “He is still married and will not be the one to walk away. I am going to respect his wishes, but if something changes…if he comes to me...” Fingon licked his lips. “I told him tonight I would have done anything he wanted. And I meant it. If he came in here right now… it frightens me and excites me and I keep having… strange and wonderful and painful feelings that I have never quite experienced before.”

“Ooof. You have it bad,” said Beleg. “So you will be the gentleman, and wait for his reciprocation.”

“I guess. Something like that.” Fingon raised his voice a little to cover the sounds he did not want to hear. “Am I making a mistake?”

“I think you need to make the choice you are comfortable with,” said Beleg. “I do think you also need to keep your distance from that tree. The closer you are, the more likely it is that you are going to be hit by a few branches before it falls over. And because that sounds confusing even to me, what I mean is that the closer you get, the harder the wait. I know how you are when you set your mind. You will wait, and I will be here to support you, but I do not want to watch you crying yourself to sleep night after night. I want you to do your best to enjoy this time of patience, because when you look back I want you to think fondly of these months or years or however long it takes for that tree to fall over. In reflection, they will be but fleeting moments, but as you live them the years will seem like centuries if you allow it to eat at you.”

“Did I ever tell you that you are my favorite philosopher?”

“Did I ever tell you that you are my favorite elf?”

Fingon let out a tiny little laugh, and Beleg grinned and gave him one final pat on the head as what was obviously an argument broke out down the hallway. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. Now, can I interest you in a nap? I get the feeling the interruptions are over for now.”

“Sleep is good.” Fingon hesitated to stand when Beleg did. He looked up with questioning hazel eyes. “Can we share a bed?”

Beleg drew his fingers lightly over Fingon’s hair. “I will not say no to cuddling with you. Once the two of you are together, you make sure you let Erestor know I get some of your kitten cuddles now and then.” 

Fingon offered an affirmative mew before following Beleg to bed.


End file.
